The Legacy of the GS Ball
by xxyessir112
Summary: Kurt inherited from his fathers the ancient craft of making Pokeballs. Yet with this he also received the curse of the legend of the GS Ball, which shaped his life with its allure. Oneshot.


**The Legacy of the GS Ball**

Kurt the Pokeball craftsman had just finished his work for the day, a large order of Lure Balls, which were sitting on his workbench. Above this, on a shelf, lied the biggest failure of his career: a different type of Pokeball. The top half of it was made of pure gold, while the bottom had a silvery sheen. He ached with the thought that he knew so much of the legend of this sphere, an object that men had lusted after for centuries, yet, after years of study, he could not crack any of its secrets. He glanced at it with a sigh and resolved to examine it for the millionth time the next day. For now, it was time to sleep.

That night, he had had a very strange dream. In it, he was running through a dark wood, moving much faster than his old body could go in reality. He ran past hundreds of trees towards a white light that he could see peeking out from between the thick trunks. Trees that large grew in only one place. At last, Kurt arrived at the source of the light, which turned out to be an old stone well. From its depths the rays of pure light shone out. Entranced, he took a step closer. And another…

Some being or force behind him gave a forceful push and he fell headfirst down the well. Terrified, Kurt closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable landing. When it did not come, he opened his eyes to see a very strange scene.

There he was, yet as a young boy of eight or nine. He was studiously taking notes while watching a man work in front of him. This man was middle-aged, yet his face was lined beyond his years. He had an apricorn set before him and several tools laid out in a row next to it. Delicately, almost caressingly, he lifted the first of the tools and brought it close to the apricorn. All the while, he was talking to the young Kurt.

In the blink of an eye, the elderly Kurt was transported to another scene of his youth. This time, he was lying in bed with a terrible fever. He had a chill and couldn't take his mind off how badly he felt. His father came over and sat beside the bed. Wanting to sooth his child, he asked, "Kurt, would you like to hear a story?" Kurt smiled slightly. His father always had a good story.

His favorite was about how over a century ago, Azalea Town was in the midst of a terrible drought. Everyone thought that they would have to abandon their beloved homes and farms. Just as the people were about to give up, they noticed several figures gathering around the town well. It was a pack of Slowpoke, Slowbro, and one Slowking. The Slowking climbed atop the well then turned to face the other members of its evolutionary line. It stared blankly for a minute, then let out a single, powerful yawn. In turn, the rest of the Pokemon also yawned. As they did so, the skies, which had been perfectly clear and dry, clouded over. Again Slowking led the group in a yawn. This time, a light rain started. With one last chorus of yawns, the skies opened up completely and it didn't stop raining for three days straight. From that day on, these Pokemon had always been considered sacred in Azalea Town. Even Bugsy, the modern-day local gym leader, trained a Slowking, even though he was a Bug-type specialist.

However, Kurt's father decided not to tell that particular story again. This time he had a new story to tell. He had a very serious look on his face as he began:

_This is the story of the very first Pokeball. Long, long ago there was a certain Legendary Pokemon who had the power to travel through time. Because of this, it learned much about the events of the future. On one journey, this Time-Traveler learned of some terrible events that would occur in the distant future. If they occurred, it would have the potential to destroy the entire world. The Time-Traveler, who was a benevolent being, decided that it would use its knowledge to help save the world. It knew that its abilities would be needed to help stop these events, so it had to find a way to seal itself away until its time came. The Time-Traveler decided to go to the Sun and the Moon for help. It asked them to help it to save the world. They came up with a way to seal the Time-Traveler away, and so created the very first Pokeball. The two then had to await the births of their Chosen Ones, who would be the only ones to be able to release the Time-Traveler from its prison and let it complete its mission. And to this day the Time-Traveler's true form has not been released, and it still lies waiting in its GS Ball._

Again, Kurt's memory changed. This time, he was his teenage self stealthily creeping to the very same well where the sacred Slowking had saved the town. This time, however, there was a young girl sitting on the well. The young Kurt smiled as he approached her. He clenched her hand as he sat down next to her. After some time, he kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Now the scene was one of confusion and terror. A blazing fire, all around. Heavy smoke covered his vision. He didn't know what to do, he was afraid to get off of his bed. He coughed and his vision darkened. He could feel a strong arm grasp him around the waist and pull him away. His vision cleared and he could see his father's face, darkened with soot. Kurt was very relieved that they both had made it out of the blazing cottage in time. However, as soon as he thought this, his father tore back into the burning house.

Now Kurt was reliving the worst day of his life. Tears were streaming down his face as he left his father's grave and slowly made his way to the burnt skeleton that had been his home. He tread through the soot, looking around for any recognizable remain of his old life. The life he had lost. The only object left was his father's old journal. His charred body had been found covering the book. _This is what he went in to get. This is why he is dead._ Kurt opened the book to find that it was filled entirely with notes on the GS Ball. His father's only legacy.

Kurt was an adult now, married. He was leaving the house to go on a journey. He was going to try to find the GS Ball. He had to complete his father's dream. He shouldered his pack and left the house. Behind him he could hear his wife's tears. Before he could get far he could hear her shout one more time: "If you leave, I won't be here when you get back! I have had enough of being your number two! And know this: I could have made you much happier than that stupid Pokeball ever will!" Kurt hesitated for one second, then kept going.

This time, the memory was of him arriving home six months later. He opened the door and called out. There was no answer. His wife had really left. All the furniture in the house was coated with a thick layer of dust. Kurt was alone: no wife, and, now, no dream. He had failed. He hadn't found out anything about the GS Ball after all that searching. Furious, he knocked over a chair and flipped the dining room table onto its side. His spirit was broken.

Now the dream was of the day when his work was interrupted a sharp knock at the door. Setting down his tools with a sigh, he went to the door. He opened it to find a woman of perhaps forty standing there with a small girl at her side, clutching at her hand and staring up at the old man in awe. She had a large cut across her forehead. "Mr. Smith? Kurt Smith?"

"Yes?" Kurt asked, surprised. He had never seen these people before.

"Hi, My name is Melissa Berge. I am from the Goldenrod City Hospital, Social Services. This child has recently been left orphaned by the incident with the Magnet Train."

"Oh, I am sorry," he replied awkwardly. What did this have to do with him?

"Well as her closest relative, we were hoping that you would take care of her," Ms. Berge looked at him questioningly.

"Her relative? No, I am sorry, there must be some mistake, I don't have any relatives." Kurt was understandably perplexed.

"Her grandmother was your wife. Your daughter and son-in-law are the deceased."

"My…daughter? Rosemary was pregnant when she left?" Kurt took a long look at the child, who, he was told, was named Maisy. He saw a familiar glimmer in her eyes. Torn, Kurt turned and looked over his shoulder at the little black journal sitting on a shelf, then looked back at Maisy. With a smile, he welcomed them in.

A few years later, he met Ash Ketchum.


End file.
